


Efficiency Is The Best Policy

by ascientistfortonight



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Strex, WTDB, Welcome to Desert Bluffs, Welcome to Night Vale - Freeform, and is actually really really smart and knows whats up, in which you realize that kevin isnt so happy-go-lucky, just biding his time due to strex, kevin - Freeform, kevin r free, or oblivious, strex corp - Freeform, wtnv - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-27
Updated: 2014-02-27
Packaged: 2018-01-14 00:29:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1245928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ascientistfortonight/pseuds/ascientistfortonight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Kevin is usually either overly happy-go-lucky or creepy as balls. But really, if Cecil can be hella smart and put in several hidden messages, who's to say that Kevin isn't the same? He's just hiding all that cleverness behind his creepy as hell happy-go-lucky personality.</p></blockquote>





	Efficiency Is The Best Policy

The brightly colored ON AIR sign flicked off and the Voice sighed, rolling his tense shoulders. He reached up and rubbed at the base of his neck, wishing that if only he could just get that knot out of his back, maybe sitting here wouldn’t feel so tedious. Maybe he could get Station Management to allow him a day off, and he could make up for the lost productivity by taking a few double shifts.

God, that’d be nice. He’d been working hard, dutifully doing what he’s supposed to.. He deserved a bit of time for himself.

"Mr. Free?" someone asked and he looked up. In the doorway, poking her head in and trying to not get her fingers on the drying crimson blood that needed to be reapplied onto his walls soon, stood Emily. A sweet girl, good at filing away old reports and can make a fantastic cup of coffee. He doesn’t feel like she’s really into the whole media thing, however, which is a shame. He’ll have to talk to her about that later. "It’s time to close down for the day."

"Yes, I know," he sighed, his voice no longer holding the light tone he uses when on air. He’d discovered a while back that he could use being exhausted as an excuse for not constantly smiling or sounding so cheerful. And usually it was true. He got to his feet, gathered up the slightly soggy papers that were scattered over his desk and left the room, smiling at Emily.

She smiled back, distractedly. “What’s wrong, my dear?” Kevin asked. She shook her head.

"I don’t.. think I’m cut out for this kind of thing.." she replied hesitantly, and he nodded in agreement. Guess he’ll have to have this conversation now.

"I understand," he said gently, placing a hand on her shoulder and squeezing comfortingly. She didn’t flinch; he’d learned his own strength long ago. "Do you think you could stick this through till tomorrow? I’ll surely need some help, and in the meantime I could set up a positive portfolio for you for when you set out for another job."

"You’d do that for me?"

He smiled, wider this time, yet still as gentle. He let his hand fall from her shoulder and back to his side. “Of course. You deserve the best, my dear.”

Her smile turned hopeful as her thoughts turned to the future, to whatever job she must have been eyeing. He went into the station break room, washing out his coffee cup and carefully tossing a slice of bread into the raccoon cage, the animal devouring it with startling vigor. He filed tonight’s reports away and headed out, casting a cheerful “Good night!” over his shoulder.

The drive home was.. interesting. Mostly due to the major reconstruction of one of the major highways and removal of the large insects that were growing out of the sidewalk, snatching up cars and passerbys and devouring them in a flurry of color and.. laughter. He knew these roads like the back of his hand, so he outmaneuvered those things easily. Also the blood storm that had popped up earlier made the roads slicker. He made a mental note to change his tires soon; the current ones had pitifully low traction.

Kevin drove one of those electric Cube cars, white with accents of yellow and a black trim. He rather liked this car— it tended to try to lean into the concrete barriers though, a kink he’d been trying to work out. His apartment was on the outskirts of town, preferring to hear less of the city than he needed to. Before he moved out here he used to get major headaches, putting him in a bad mood the next day. Luckily Strex Corp agreed and allowed him to move further out under the condition that he shows up to work ten minutes early. He agreed to these terms happily. Of course.

As he pulled into the parking lot, he half expected his car to give a little lurch. But it didn’t. His old car always did that, as if it could tell their journey was over. But the head of the not-so-new station management told him to get rid of “that hunk of junk out front” and bought the radio host a new car. And while Kevin rather liked this new model, he missed his old car; it held memories in its slightly rusted frame that this Cube couldn’t replace. He and his father had put together that old car years ago, back before his father went missing and never came back.

But now is not the time for such thoughts, he reminds himself.

Now is the time to take advantage of the Strex approved relaxation hours. He’s so glad they listened to him about his concerns over the near constant work and little time to rest. Just mention the fact that it’s an efficiency boost and they perk up every time. He smiled to himself as he slid his ID card through the slot on the door, the handle popping out so he could go in, an almost cruel smile as he thought again of how easy it is to play the Strex representatives into doing what he wants.

He _is_ an actor after all. Knowing how to get to people is all part of the job.

He went inside, setting his ID card down on the table by the door, letting out a tired sigh as the door shut and automatically locked behind him. Putting his slightly red speckled cream colored jacket in the closet with the other array of brightly color coordinated jackets and shirts, he went ahead and made himself dinner.

A bowl of Mac and cheese with just a bit of milk and salt added to add flavor. Popping it into the microwave and setting it for one minute, he checked for messages on his phone.

[txt] Make sure you stop by the local market and get a comment on the current stock number

From the Strex representative that tended to show up most.

[txt] ok i’ll get on it first thing tomorrow morning :D

At least he held back on the excessive amount if emoticons that he usually uses. The microwave dinged and he pulled out his dinner, consuming it quickly. A bit too much salt tonight; gonna have to watch that.

Then a quick shower, washing off the blood that accumulated on his person during the broadcast. He felt himself begin to slow down, felt his muscles relax as he stared down at the crimson slowly going down the drain. Sometimes he had existential crisis here, sometimes he tuned the world out. Sometimes he wondered why Strex Corp took such an interest in Desert Bluffs. Sometimes he wondered why he remained a radio host when his pay was obviously getting cut off every month.

He felt something heavy settle at both the bottom if his stomach and heart, something akin to mixed anxiety and fear. He noticed the slow takeover, but their government and general society was crumbling and the Bluffs surely would have collapsed had Strex not stepped in.

Sometimes, in the darkest hours of night when he still lay awake, mind metaphorically spinning around and around in circles, he’d worry at how effectively Strex managed to take over. How quickly the citizens of his beautiful city adjusted to the change, himself included.

He shuddered, and despite the warm water rolling over his body, as if the cold he felt skipped his flesh, not even bothering to give him goosebumps, and dove straight for his bones, leaving him chilled from the inside out.

It’s not a comforting feeling.

Sure he wasn’t going to get any warmer standing in cooling water, he shut it off and stepped out of the shower, drying himself off and slipping on a robe that reached down past his knees. It's soft, this robe. And warm. He smiled to himself. That's what he liked about this new bathroom. The towels and robes are always warm.

Then he went into his bedroom. Simple enough. A bed large enough to fit three or four people, a wall of windows overlooking Kevin's beautiful city, a wooden bedstand, a phone, alarm clock, a lamp. There was a painting over the bed, but it moved in correspondence to the current sunset. The landscape in the picture was speckled with crimson where blood had pooled into puddles, the sun hitting it just right so that it lit up. A rather dazzling piece tonight.

He climbed into bed, laid across it under the covers, and started laughing. Softly. Little giddy noises that maybe Strex would mistake for his making up for lost time on laughter and happy thoughts. Really, for the fourth time that day, he was laughing at how well he could bend Strex to his will. That bubbly, slightly naive exterior was paying off, allowing him access to places he knew he wouldn't have gotten into otherwise. He grinned, a facesplitting, bright, _cruel_ grin. They think they have Desert Bluffs under their control.

They think that by controlling the media, they can control outgoing news while receiving incoming news. False incoming news. Misleading incoming news.

He smiled.

He smiled because he could.

Because his war, the war between Desert Bluffs and Strex Corp wasn't nonexistent. There were rebels. Quiet, smart, careful rebels. Not like the ones over in Night Vale-- and that's not to say they aren't smart. They are. They're really smart. But they're too public, too loud, too obvious, too easy to catch.

The army below Desert Bluffs.. They knew how to have silent influences. Strex didn't suspect a thing.

He smiled.

He smiled because he knew this war would be over.

And soon.

All they needed was a Night Valian spark, a distraction so that they could rebel, destroy all Strex influences _quickly_ and _efficiently._

That is, after all, what they were best at.

_Efficiency._

**Author's Note:**

> Kevin is usually either overly happy-go-lucky or creepy as balls. But really, if Cecil can be hella smart and put in several hidden messages, who's to say that Kevin isn't the same? He's just hiding all that cleverness behind his creepy as hell happy-go-lucky personality.


End file.
